


The Unexpected Benefits of Chores

by jetaimerai



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetaimerai/pseuds/jetaimerai
Summary: Getting Sherlock to do anything is like pulling teeth. Even if it is for his own good.





	The Unexpected Benefits of Chores

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 2011 so this is based on series 1 only.

  
“Sherlock.”

No response.

“ _Sherlock_!”

Sherlock looks up from the petri dish he had been examining with a glare that says, _why are you wasting my time with your pedestrian problems?_ John has grown very, very accustomed to that glare. Thus, he knows very well what his reaction will be to the next thing he says.

“It’s your turn to get the milk.”

Just as expected, Sherlock quietly huffs and returns to his petri dish without uttering a single word. This time, John has a line of attack ready in response. “Sherlock, if you don’t do this, I won’t entertain you the next time you get bored.”

This finally gets his attention. “Nonsense, you detest it when I get bored. I know you’re rather fond of having our walls be bullet free, which I assure you is something I cannot promise.”

“The cost of the repairs from that damage always come out of _your_ rent, so go ahead.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, which means this isn’t just about the milk. If you’re honestly still upset by my disinterest in domestic chores, then you are an idiot because -”

“It’s not about that, I know that, I don’t expect you to want to do them. Nobody _wants_ to do them, Sherlock, but sometimes we have to do things that we don’t want to do!”

“Oh. So it is about that. How dull.” He returns to his petri dish once more.

John is getting side-tracked. He takes a deep breath. “My threat is still in effect. If you don’t do it right now, the second you become bored I will leave the flat.”

“What would you do? Where would you go? That seems to be an awful amount of effort for you to go through just to fulfill a petty threat.”

“That doesn’t matter, I’ll be able to find something. And oh, it wouldn’t be a lot of effort, in fact it would be so much easier than sticking around when you’re being insufferable.”

Sherlock frowns, barely perceptible. “Fine. I will be able to entertain myself.” A distinctly petulant tone has entered his voice.

John snorts, which really says it all for him. “I think we both know how successful that will be. C’mon Sherlock, the clock is ticking.”

“I’ll do it later,” he mutters, which really means “I won’t do it, ever”.

“ _Now_.”

Sherlock sighs and stands up from the kitchen table in a truly impressive display of reluctance and grudging. For all that he is a brilliant man, he is still prone to fits more befitting a teenager. “You are truly fortunate, John, to have asked me this during this particular experiment; if it had been time-sensitive I would have completely ignored you. I also expect tea to be ready for when I come back.”

John rolls his eyes. He would normally protest such an assumption, but since getting him to actually do something is a major accomplishment in itself, he’s not going to press his luck. “And you are truly fortunate that I tolerate you at all. Now go.”

Sherlock slips his coat on, and with a dramatic flourish he exits the flat. Immediately after the door closes John takes out his cell phone and dials. “Hello. Yes, I finally got him out of the flat. Bring it here, and as quickly as possible; he won’t be gone for long.”

 

 

When Sherlock returns to the flat only twenty minutes later, he instantly knows that something is different, and not just from the smell of Earl Gray tea drifting through the air. Someone else has been here – Molly, from the weaker scent of her perfume. He takes off his coat and enters the room.

John is sitting at the kitchen table, though thankfully not next to his experiment. He is sipping his tea, and he is clearly attempting to appear nonchalant, but he is betrayed by the gleam in his eyes and the quirk of his mouth.

“Why was Molly here?” he asks abruptly, partly out of curiosity but mostly just to see him drop the nonchalant act. It works.

Smirking, John says, “Just put the milk away.”

Suspicious, he opens the fridge door, and inside he finds a perfectly preserved eye which had been removed due to ocular cancer. The exact one he had requested a week ago but had been denied. “How did you get this?”

John’s smirk grows wider. “I’m a doctor.”

Ah. Of course. “What’s the occasion?”

“Your birthday.”

Sherlock stomach drops. “Mycroft told you.” Of course he did, he is the only person who knows when his birthday is. He knew that they had spoken sometime last week, but John had been curiously tight-lipped about the conversation. He should have known that Mycroft would be polluting John’s mind with useless information. Sherlock does hate his brother so.

“Stop planning Mycroft’s assassination, Sherlock, I asked him.”

Sherlock shakes his head. “You are so sentimental, it is rather unbecoming.”

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
